


In Which the Rogue is Guilty

by Zymm



Series: Rogue One One-Shots [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-08 18:39:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11652399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zymm/pseuds/Zymm
Summary: Before the Rebellion, Jyn Erso was an apathetic bystander at best. The Rebellion forced her to take action, and the actions bring about guilt and shame.





	In Which the Rogue is Guilty

    Jyn Erso was a guilty conscious, dragged around on a leash by the past that she could not escape, constrained by the present that she made no move to change.  
    Jyn was no shining moral figure, no strong role-model for young children to look up to, no matter how the rebellion painted their role on Scarif. She shuddered to think of some young girl, some orphan such as herself, seeing Jyn as hero. Longing to be just like her in her older years. It was a nightmare, one Jyn relived every time she met some new recruit on what could only be seen as a propagandist outing to ‘inspire’ new members of the rebellion.  
    The Rebellion was not a beautiful thing; it was something bred out of desperation and hope,  
And as such, it harnessed a darker, hidden sign. Nothing was pure in the galaxy, Jyn learned very early on. Though the Rebellion was the most peaceful, safe option when compared to the reign of the Imperial forces, it was no model of innocence. War brought out the animal in both sides.  
    And Jyn struggled with what it brought out in her.  
    It wasn’t that the Rebellion exposed her to new horrors- no, she’d been a recruit of Saw, after   
All. She’d seen her parents murdered, she’d seen many, many more people, all nameless faces, tortured and killed before her. She’d lost beloved comrades, childhood heroes. It was the fact that now, in her Rebellion tasks, she was no longer an apathetic bystander, whose opinions and actions meant little. No, now she was an active force in the Rebellion, executing missions that could potentially cost valuable, innocent lives.   
    Jyn had spent her whole life apathetic, on the outskirts of any true standing; the Rebellion forced her to make decisions on the matter, usually in a fraction of a second. It created guilt inside of her, shame that would sit on her heart, fester in her soul.  
    On one of her earliest missions, just her and Bodhi, she’d been forced to face it head on. She didn’t react well.  
    It wasn’t a droid, a clone, some mindless machine of the Imperial forces; it was some mechanic on the bridge of a small Imperial ship they’d invaded.   
    They were trying to capture a known war criminal on the ship, a man who had hid away in the cargo load. It wasn’t even known if the Imperial ship was protecting the man, or if they were just an unsuspecting host for the parasite to latch onto. But with the word Imperial came the notion of blasters at the ready, weapons aplenty.   
    It didn’t sit well in Jyn’s stomach, but she’d ignored it.  
But there was the mechanic, some older fellow with salt and pepper hair. He’d reached for his comm once he found that Bodhi and Jyn’s ride was in fact not a routine maintenance check; and Jyn reacted without thinking.     She’d done something so quick, performed her training from the base at Yavin so fast. She would have made her trainer proud.  
Jyn shot the man before he could utter a word, right in between his eyes.   
    He fell easily, died just as fast. There was no pain, no thoughts, just one minute there and on minute not. Jyn wondered in that moment if he’d had a family, perhaps a lover on some planet. If his parents were still alive, if they were proud of their son for gaining such a coveted position on an Imperial ship.   
    Everyone was the hero in their own story, even some Imperial mechanic.   
    They’d found the fugitive easily, for it was all routine in Jyn’s head, something she performed on autopilot. She didn’t speak a word, not even after they’d made it back to Yavin. She brushed Bodhi off, even though he was nothing but a concerned friend.  
    It could’ve been Bodhi.  
    In some other world, she could’ve shot some unsuspecting Imperial pilot, another form of Bodhi still in the Imperial force.   
It was alarming to her, the fact that each human had thoughts, dreams, loves; even the Imperial men, they were human. The Rebellion had quickly fallen into the trap of painting their enemies as animals, as something less than human, and Jyn had oh so quickly absorbed the feeling into her thinking.  
    The man she shot could’ve been innocent, condemned only by the ideology he held. Perhaps it had been passed through his family, embraced by his homeworld. Perhaps he was as apathetic as Jyn, easily swayed towards the nearest cause that seemed ‘right’.   
    Perhaps he was innocent, and she’d murdered him in cold blood for doing his duty, something ingrained in his brain.  
    Jyn went to Bodhi that night, without a word. She curled up in bed beside him, the bony edges and long limbs, guilt thick on her heart. It was an unspoken thing between her and Bodhi- nothing romantic, nothing like her and Cassian. They both just longed for warmth, companionship and friendship, something they had both been torn from in their youth. They were so touch starved, emotionally restrained, her more than him.  
    “It could’ve been you.” She muttered, and she felt that if she were normal, she would be sobbing then, fisting her hands in the thin, military-grade pajamas he wore. But Jyn Erso was anything but a normally-functioning human, and she made her words built of stone.  
    “The man? The Imperial mechanic?” Bodhi asked, his brow furrowed. He never quite put together her thoughts, read her hidden emotions like Cassian could. But sometimes, Jyn didn’t need the vulnerability of her inner workings that she was forced to endure with Cassian. Sometimes, Jyn needed something simple.  
She nodded. “I killed him.”  
    “He was going to call for backup. There’s a good chance they would have killed us both.” Bodhi told her, reassuring. He was a caretaker, soft in his young age.   
Jyn calmed a bit at her words. Without her actions, then Bodhi would have truly been dead at her hands.  
    “Nothing’s black and white, and I know you struggle with that.” Bodhi admitted, talking lightly, as if pondering the whole situation out loud, not truly to her. “You’ve an awfully blunt person.”  
    Jyn cracked a smile at that.   
    “You do what you have to in order to save things you care about.” Bodhi said finally, drumming his fingers on the side of her head, softly reminding her that he was still there. Jyn longed to say more, to question the validity of his statement, to inquire as to when that line is drawn or the statement irrelevant.   
    But she didn’t, because some things in life were meant to be left simple.  
  
\----------------------

    "Do you struggle with guilt?”   
    Jyn had asked Cassian one day, bluntly and out of nowhere, as customary of her. She had learned many, many things over the years, but tact had sadly not been one of them.   
    He didn’t seem surprised, or gawk at her, or question her human emotions; she knew he wouldn’t, but she feared it nonetheless. Instead, his face remained impassive, and Jyn struggled with the feeling to beat on his chest and demand that he open up to her, allowing her to read him like he so easily read her.  
    “No, and yes.” He admitted finally, giving her a hard look. His dark eyes seemed tired in that moment, older than his young age. Cassian looked as he’d missed days of sleep pondering over that exact notion.  
    “I’ve learned that I can’t forget all that I’ve done.” Cassian told her, biting his lip, gnawing at the pink skin. His brow hung low, his voice unsure of himself. It took Jyn’s breath away, the vulnerability of it all, and she felt her heart lurch at the fact that he allowed himself to be this way around her. She grabbed his hand, tracing the indents in his palm, urging him on.  
    "I’ve done too many things in my life for the rebellion, and sometimes my trust in it wavers. But it never goes away. I think that it is the greater of two evils, occasionally, but I do think we are on the correct side.” Cassian explained.  
    “There’s so many things done for the rebellion that I feel ashamed of.” She whispered, looking away from him. She wanted to hide.  
    “Nothing is ever completely innocent and pure. The things that are worth fighting for are things that are far more complicated than just ‘good’ and ‘bad’.” Cassian said, and it almost made Jyn smile, remembering the similar sentiment Bodhi had told her the previous evening. She didn’t really want to accept that fact, like a foul tasting medicine. She knew that she really wanted to experience the guilt more, to let it control her. She felt as though she deserved it.  
    “But I do worry, tremendously.” Cassian told her, and it wasn’t a new idea to her; she had known for many weeks how much he worried, and she tried to soothe his worries every chance she could. But like her, he was a creature that shied away from vulnerability, no matter how easily it may fix an ailment.   
    “But I also occasionally feel guilt.” He said, looking up at her, forcing her to meet his eyes. A small, genuine grin stretched across his face, alleviating the discomfort she felt. “I’ve found it goes hand in hand with worry.”  
    And at that she grinned too, molding herself into his side. She pressed a kiss to the crook of his neck, indulging herself in the beat of his pulse and the quiet sound of his breathing.  
    “They do go together quite well.” Jyn sighed, shaking her head. “It seems that we are just two depressingly complimentary people.”

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
